


Worried

by Impala_Chick



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Awkward Romance, Awkward Tension, Dialogue Heavy, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 20:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10647567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/pseuds/Impala_Chick
Summary: Based on episode 4.14 The Hero in the Hold; Sweets is freaking out about the latest case and he can't quite figure out why.





	Worried

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2009. Archiving all my fics from LJ.

Sweets was losing his fucking mind. All he kept thinking was that Booth was missing.

Gone. Vanished. Taken. Alone.

And he was powerless. There was nothing he could do.

He couldn’t identify particulates or look at remains or artifacts or cut up dead bodies or any of the things the rest of the squint squad could do. He was just as much a part of Booth’s crew as they all were, and yet he was no help. Apparently, he was actually a hindrance. They had told him to get out. They had forced him to leave. They had taken away any scrap of sanity he had.

Because if he was working, he wouldn’t have time to stop and think about it. Now he was thinking. A lot.

_If Booth is gone, Sweets won’t be able to see his face walk through his door anymore._

__

__

If Booth is gone, Sweets won’t be able to talk to him about Parker or Brennan or life as an agent.

If Booth is gone, Sweets won’t be able to keep working at the best job he’s ever had.

_If Booth is gone… Sweets would feel lonely._

Sweets didn’t waste another second.

He took out his phone and dialed Brennan.

“I need to be there. I know I can’t help much but I need to be there. Please let me-”

“Okay, Sweets. Okay. The FBI interrupted us anyway. Come back. I have to go now.”

Sweets breathed out before grabbing his keys. He had work to do.

~~~~~

Sweets knew the Gravedigger wasn’t going to talk. She wouldn’t crack after all this time. Besides, she was too smart for that.

Sweets’ hands were clammy with sweat. He rubbed his hands on his slacks, but he couldn’t quite wipe all the sweat away.

He kept focusing on the Gravedigger, trying to figure out what, if anything, could make her talk. Brennan was pacing the room, angry as hell. Sweets wasn’t good at anger. He was good at thinking. And worrying. His brow was furrowed in anxiety as he kept looking from Brennan to the Gravedigger, waiting from some piece of vital information to come to him that would be helpful.  
He kept sitting down and standing up, scouring the room with his eyes for answers.

They just weren’t coming.

And as usual, he was getting ignored. Just because he wasn’t a goddamned scientist didn’t make him less of a person. He was going silently crazy in his corner of the room and no one noticed. If Booth had been there, he would have noticed.

Luckily he didn’t have to wait much longer, because Hodgins and Cam and Ang and Jared had cracked the case wide open and Brennan was whisked away to be loaded onto a helicopter to come to Booth’s rescue.

And again, Sweets was left alone.

Eventually someone called him and told him Booth was okay, and he could finally relax. He plopped into an armchair, crossing and uncrossing his legs. His hands didn’t stop perspiring, though. He thought that was odd.

What was ailing him was worry over his friend. So, his worry should have ceased when he found out said friend was okay.

Since he still felt jittery and nervous and agitated and his palms were clammy and cold, those feelings must not have been caused by his worry.

His sweaty palms could have partly been caused by just worry, certainly. But there was something else.

He jumped out of his seat and pulled out his phone.

He needed to hear his voice.

“Sweets?”

“Booth. Are you-”

“Ya, Sweets. I’m okay. Brennan came and got me. We, uh. We just landed safely and everything. Are you okay? You sound… different.”

“No, I’m… I just wanted to hear your voice, is all.”

“Oh. Okay. Well. I’m going to have to go fill out the report for all of this. So… I’ll be in my office later.”

“Those wicked protocols, huh?” Sweets laughs lightly, forcing air through his lungs. He’s finding it hard to make jokes right now.

“Ya. So I’ll see you later?” Bones says, and Sweets can see the corner of Booth’s mouth curving into a smile.

“Ya, for sure.” Sweets smiles and hangs up the phone.

~~~~~

Sweets knocks on Booth’s door. His hands are still all clammy. At least he isn’t so agitated anymore. He still has the jitters, though.

Booth opens the door and a big smile brightens his face before he pulls Sweets into a hug. Sweets claps him on the back, but tries not to be too friendly. He isn’t stupid. He doesn’t want to freak Booth out or anything. Even though Booth does smell really musky and strong and amazing and Sweets finds himself melting into the front of him.

Booth clears his throat and steps back.

“Thanks for coming, Sweets.”

“Sure, Agent Booth. So, you have just gone through a very tough experience and now you have to relive it all on paper and I can understand how difficult this is going to be for you so I suggest trying to focus-”

Booth puts his hand on Sweets’ shoulder, and Sweets stops talking. There he was, waiting yet again.

“Sweets, I didn’t exactly tell you to come over because you are my therapist.”

Booth starts to look like he’s the nervous one. Sweets is hurriedly trying to read between the lines, thinking he must have missed something. Because this can’t be happening.

“Oh…. Well then, why did you Agent Booth?” Sweets’ eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t move.

“I, uh. Damnit Sweets, call me Seeley for right now.” Booth scrubs his face with the hand not gripping Sweets’ shoulder.

“Okay. Um. Seeley. What’s going on?” Sweets asks more urgently, gripping the lapel of Booth’s jacket. He had meant it as a way for Booth to feel safe enough to talk to him, but it totally felt like innuendo after Sweets did it. But it was too late to take his action back. And since Booth didn’t back away, Sweets pulled him closer.

Booth let out a huff of air and glanced over at the door before he pushed his lips against Sweets. Sweets came forward to meet him, his eyes sliding closed as stars popped behind his eyes and the bells rang in his head and he didn’t care how cliché that sounded in his head but that’s what he was feeling.

Booth nipped at Sweets’ bottom lip, tugging him forward roughly before letting him go. Booth hadn’t even tried for tongue. He had conveyed more of a simple need for close contact and Sweets admired him for that.

Sweets stared at Booth’s wet and kiss swollen lips for a heartbeat before he started to smirk.

“Damn. So that’s what-”

Booth put his fingers to Sweets’ lips to keep him from talking.

“Ya, ya. I kept thinking how much it would suck if I couldn’t have therapy with you anymore. You can analyze how this was a result of post-traumatic stress and my mom not hugging me enough or something at our next session. Just… not now.”

Booth removed his hand and turned away, plopping back into his chair.

Sweets tried to hide his smile, as Booth was obviously aggravated by this whole situation.

“It’s interesting that you bring up your mother at a time like this-”

Booth spins around in his chair and gives him a hard look, his mouth set into a firm line.

Sweets rocks up onto his heels and shoves his hands into his pockets, letting a grin take over his features.

“Right, okay. No psychoanalysis. Want me to stay and help with all the paperwork? We could order take-out or something.”

Booth taps his desk with his fingers for a couple beats and then looks up.

“Okay. But I get to pick the place.” Booth says, folding his arms and leaning back.

“Fine.”

Sweets sits down and crosses his legs, his cheeks tinged with pink.

“Fine.”

Sweets watches the pink color of what could possibly a blush creep through Booth’s cheeks.


End file.
